18. Jane
18
JANE
Carter: What are you guys wearing tonight?
Scar: all black
Carter: Shocker
Carter: Jane?
Me: I have this new lavender mini dress I’m thinking of…or else might also join in with Scar in all black
Carter: A dress? Is this club fancy?
Me: Idk I just like wearing dresses
Scar: i will not be in a dress
Carter: You guys aren’t very helpful
Scar: ask your bf
Carter: He’s just lying on the bed watching me get ready asking if he can come with
Me: No boys allowed tonight!
Scar: lol Walker’s doing the same
Jane: Tell my brother he can sacrifice one night for the sake of his favorite sister
I finish with the last section of my hair and flip my head over, shaking out the curls before I hair spray them into place. My makeup is a little heavier than my usual routine during the week, but I like the way the darker shadow makes my eyes pop. Plus, club lighting is always dim, so going more bold doesn’t hurt.
The margarita I made sweats against the marble countertop, and I take a few sips, needing to speed things up as I check the time. I’m supposed to be meeting up with Carter and Scar in twenty minutes and I still need to get dressed.
As I lean over the counter and swipe on a coat of gloss, my phone buzzes and I glance down to check the caller ID.
I accept the call and say, “Hi, Mom,” while I finish the last touches of my makeup.
“Janie, it’s good to hear your voice,” she says, her voice dripping with familiarity and comfort. While it’s been good to get away from the East Coast, I miss being able to see her whenever I want.
“How are you doing? How’s work going?”
“I was calling to ask you the same thing. How’s Arun treating you?”
I press my lips together to evenly spread the pigment before I cap the gloss and toss it into my bag for the night. “He’s treating me well,” I say. “I’m already working directly with four of his clients.”
Just this past week he had me take over the workload for one of his newest clients, a singer who toes the line between pop and country who recently had a video of her performance go viral online. Arun snatched her up and I’ve been handling contract negotiations with the record label trying to sign her.
“That’s great, hon. Have you heard from your boss at all? I’m sure they’re missing you back home.”
I choke down the scoff that works its way up my throat. “Not really.” I grab my phone and head over to my closet, grabbing out the new dress I was planning on wearing tonight. I quickly change as I fill my mom in. Since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten exactly one email from Chester and it was to let me know that his partners working on the LA expansion would like to meet with me to discuss connections I’ve made. When I responded back with my availability, I never heard back.
“I’m sure it just got buried in his emails,” she says. “Try following up with his assistant.”
I thought of that. And I know I should. But also the longer I’m out here, the less and less I miss Boston. I’ve realized really the only things that I miss are the city itself and Hallie. My job, my apartment, my life there…not so much.
“Yeah, I will this week,” I tell her, but I won’t. The air is cool as I slip off my robe and pull the dress over my head. It clings to my chest and waist, but flows out slightly around my hips and thighs. Perfectly accentuating the parts I want to highlight and hiding the parts I don’t want to.
I chat with my mom about what’s new with her and my dad as I pull on my shoes and pick out my jewelry for the evening. Even though I’m going to be on my feet dancing at a club all night, I still opt for four-inch heels.
My feet lost feeling a long time ago.
“Have you seen your brother lately? He hasn’t called us in a few days.”
I pin my earrings in as I say, “I haven’t, but I’m hanging out with Scar tonight. I’ll tell her to have him give you a call. You know he’ll listen to her.”
My mom chuckles. “That he does. Tell her I said hi. I’d love to have you three come home for a visit soon.”
“I’ll let her know. I gotta run, but I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
We hang up, and I check the time. Shit, I was supposed to leave a few minutes ago. I grab my bag and dip out before I can overthink my outfit. I’ve done a lot of work on my confidence over the years, but that doesn’t mean that I love looking at myself in the mirror.
I quickly make my way downstairs and through the living room. My heels click along the floor and it puts an extra boost in my step. One of my favorite sounds.
“Where are you going?”
I let out a surprised yelp and whip my head around. I’m so focused on getting out the door that I didn’t notice Nikolai sitting at the island in the kitchen eating a bowl of ramen.
“You scared me.” I laugh.
The chopsticks drop with a soft clack against the counter as he spins on the stool until he fully faces me. His chest is bare, showing off his golden tan from the summer months and defined muscles he’s gained over the years. My eyes dip to the black sweatpants that hug his hips and thighs and do nothing to hide what he has going on beneath them.
A tingling sensation breaks across my skin, and when I meet his eyes, he smirks. I clear my throat and push my shoulders back. “Enjoy your dinner,” I say, fighting to keep my tone even. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
He shakes his head, his gaze lingering on the short hem of my dress and the way the front dips to give a peek at my cleavage. “I mean, where are you going dressed like that?”
A flame sparks in my stomach at the look on his face as he drinks me in. He doesn’t hide the way he’s checking me out, or the appreciation for what he sees. “It’s girls night.”
“Girls night,” he repeats softly, eyes now moving up to my face. “So then who are you wearing a dress like that for?” His tone is laced with a bite of jealousy, making me smile.
“Myself.”
“Of course you are,” he chuckles knowingly. “Who are you going out with?”
I check over the contents of my purse to make sure I have everything. “What are you, my father?”
“That would be highly inappropriate.”
“Ugh.” I grab the washcloth hanging over the faucet and toss it at him. He dodges it easily and laughs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Scar and Carter.”
He nods and picks up his chopsticks again. “Where are you going?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?”
“I’m showing interest in your life.”
“Is that all?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”
We haven’t spoken much since his pop-up show. The house is big enough that we can avoid each other if we want to, and he’s been spending most of his nights in the studio while I spend most of my days working with Arun and my new clients.
My head has been a mess, replaying our conversation that night and his confession. That he loved me. That he wants me to fight for this. For us .
I want to. So fucking badly. But I also know that I can’t trust that he won’t decide one day that this isn’t what he wants. That I’m not what he wants. I can’t go through it again.
So I knew I needed a distraction this weekend and to let loose, forgetting about responsibilities and Nikolai. And luckily, Carter and Scar were all too happy to agree to get together for a night.
A text from Scar wondering where I am lights up my phone, and I shoot back that I’m leaving now. “I gotta go,” I say to Nikolai, striding toward the door. “Don’t wait up.”
“Jane—”
I toss a wave over my shoulder and grab the keys to the car that Nikolai’s been letting me use. We’re meeting at Scar and my brother’s house since they’re the closest to downtown and then we’ll take a car from there.
By the time I meet up with them and we make our way to the club for the evening, thoughts of Nikolai and the state we’re in settle to the recess of my mind.
“To girls night out!” Carter shouts above the music and raises her shot glass. I clink it with my own shot of tequila while Scar joins in with her Red Bull. We echo her sentiment and I toss back the liquor. It’s warm as it glides down my throat and I twist my lips, shivering as it settles at the top of my stomach. Am I getting too old for tequila shots?
“I’m so happy you were both in the city this weekend. It seems like you’re always all across the country,” I say to them.
Scar plays with the ends of her long hair, the purple ends barely noticeable in the dark lighting. “I know, I’m in need of a serious break.”
“You’re crushing it though,” Carter reassures her, then says to me, “You should see the kind of crowds she’s drawing now. Each show is getting bigger and bigger.” She beams as she tells me about the latest show that she photographed for Scar but when I look at her, she doesn’t seem excited about her growing success.
If anything, she looks worried. Distracted.
Different from the usual calm, cool, and collected Scar I’ve grown used to.
I open my mouth to ask her if everything’s okay, but as if sensing my question, her eyes dart to mine and I stop. She narrows her gaze and subtly shakes her head as frown lines mar her forehead.
I glance at Carter to see if she’s picking up on this but she’s distracted by the throngs of people on the dance floor. It’s packed tonight, making the entire room bleed into one huge mass of wriggling bodies. Music thumps throughout the large space, echoing off the two-story ceilings. The upper level is a VIP only area but since we aren’t with any of the guys tonight, we’re sticking to the lower level.
Deciding to drop the subject, I instead say, “Thank you both for coming out. I needed this.”
“Stressful week at work? How’re you liking working for Arun?” Carter asks as she adjusts the straps on her red top that matches the colors of her lips.
“He’s great. So much better than my boss back home.” I snort at the comparison between Chester and Arun.
A cocktail waitress steps up to our table and deposits a round of drinks.
“We didn’t?—”
She points over her shoulder to two men sitting at the end of the bar. “From the guys over there. Don’t worry, I brought them straight over once they were made. Have a good night, ladies.” She rushes off without another word.
Carter nervously looks over toward the guys and then ducks her head down. “We can’t accept these. Should I take them back over?”
“Fuck no,” Scar says at the same time I say, “Absolutely not. A free drink is a free drink.”
Carter spins her half-empty glass in her hand. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be weird for me and Scar to accept them? Wouldn’t Walker care?”
Scar scoffs and pushes the drink for her toward me. “Well for one, I won’t try this ’cause I don’t trust that it wouldn’t have alcohol in it. But otherwise, I doubt he’d care. It’s not like I’m going to talk to the guys just because they bought us drinks. We didn’t ask them to. We don’t owe them anything.”
I grab one of the glasses, which looks like a vodka cranberry, and take a sip. Delicious . “Yeah, it’s not like you asked them for a drink. And plus, I really don’t think Hayden would care.”
He knows she’s head over heels for him, and he’s the same for her. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an engagement on the horizon for them before long.
She bites her lip and checks her phone.
I check out the men over her shoulder. They glance at us and when I catch one of their eyes, he gives a slight nod and raises his drink. I mirror the action back with a small smile and turn my attention back to the girls.
“He’s not half bad,” Scar says, catching the interaction. “Not my type, but maybe yours?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling like my dress is too tight as I can feel his eyes continue to watch me. “Kinda reminds me of my ex,” I joke. Liam used to go out dressed just like this guy. Slacks, pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and an expensive watch to garner attention and to prove that he had money to spend.
I can’t help but think about how Nikolai wears a similar style, but it has such a different effect. It’s not a mask he’s putting on or dressing nicely to try to prove himself to anyone. His half-buttoned shirts look effortless on him and lived in. Not stiff or stuffy.
And the watch he always wears probably costs more than this guys does, but he doesn’t wear it to prove he has money. It’s the sentimental value of it that has him putting it on every morning.
Fuck, get out of my head, Nikolai. Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting him.
“Think I should go thank him for the drinks?” I ask Scar.
She looks disgusted at the idea but waves her hand at me. “If you feel so inclined. But I’m not getting up.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.” I chuckle. Condensation clings to my glass as I bring it to my lips and toss back the last of my tequila soda.
But before I can grab the gifted drink and go over to their spot at the bar, the two men approach our table. The taller one, the one dressed like my ex, pushes his shoulders back as he stands between me and Scar. “You ladies looked thirsty,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to yell over the music.
Scar gives him the dullest look I’ve ever seen and I hide my laugh with my drink. Pure annoyance rolls off her at their interruption but neither of them seem to pick up on it.
“Are you all from around here?” the shorter one, standing between Carter and Scar, asks the table but he hasn’t peeled his eyes away from Carter since they walked up. She shifts on her stool, angling her body away.
“No,” Scar says flatly.
Carter gives her a what the fuck look but Scar isn’t deterred.
“Where are you from?” the taller one asks her.
“Wisconsin.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and look to see Carter doing the same, catching onto Scar’s game.
“What brought you out to LA? Modeling?”
I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost . He runs a hand through his hair and puts on his best smile as he delivers the cheesy line. His buddy tries to lean in to say something in Carter’s ear, but she quickly ducks away.
“A funeral,” Scar answers.
The guy blinks for a moment and for the first time in this interaction, I can see his internal debate whether she’s been bullshitting him this whole time or not.
“You serious?” He laughs weakly.
Scar turns and although she barely reaches his chest even sitting down, she reduces him to two feet tall with her glare. “Do you think I’d lie about something like that?”
His mouth opens and shuts, at a loss of how to recover this situation.
I sip on my free drink as I watch the interaction. Not like they had a chance to begin with either of them, but even if Scar and Carter weren’t already in relationships, these guys wouldn’t even be getting their phone numbers.
It doesn’t escape my notice that neither of them try talking to me, even as I sit right here in the mix. It shouldn’t bother me, because it’s not like I feel any particular attraction to either of them, but it brings that all too familiar feeling crawling up the back of my throat and making my eyes grow hot as I blink.
I scan the room, watching groups of friends dance together and yell at each other over the music. Couples grind against one another, some in sync with the music and others too far past the point of caring. Cheeks flushed, energy high, the club is alive.
And yet I feel myself disassociating from it. The longing for my bed and quiet grows louder in my head.
After a particularly scathing look from Scar, it finally seems to click for the one guy that he’s not going to get anywhere with her and he turns to me. His eyes scan me up and down, and I wish it didn’t, but his look sends awareness of every curve and roll on my body.
Before he can even open his mouth, I take a page from Scar’s book and say, “I’m married.”
His eyes dip to my left hand.
“It’s getting cleaned,” I say in the absence of a ring on my finger. The lie sounds obvious to my ears and likely to his as well, but at this point, he accepts it.
It’s not like I was his first choice anyways.
The guys bid their farewells and scamper off to go find new prospects after crashing and burning at our table.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Carter leans in and says, “That was so awkward!”
“For them.” Scar snorts.
I chew on my straw as they lament, not really feeling the desire to join in the conversation.
After Carter finishes her drink, she shouts, “Let’s go dance!”
Scar immediately hops off her barstool, itching to get moving. “Finally.”
Carter stands and they wait expectantly for me to do the same.
“I’ll join you guys in a bit.”
She frowns. “But we came out tonight so we could do this.”
“I know,” I say. And I couldn’t wait to dance tonight, but suddenly I’m too aware of every inch of my body and the way I look. It’s like I’m a little ant under a magnifying glass, squirming uncomfortably on the sidewalk. Although I know no one is paying as much attention to me as I am myself, self-consciousness doesn’t listen to logic.
“I’m just going to grab another drink and then I’ll meet you guys there.”
Scar gives me a doubtful look. “We can stay here until you’re ready.”
I shrug them off. “You go ahead. Promise I’ll be out there soon.”
They exchange a look and then reluctantly head onto the dance floor. The mob quickly absorb them until I only catch brief flashes of them as the crowd sways in opposite directions.
Sitting here alone is just as uncomfortable as the idea of going out on the dance floor right now. I slam the last of my drink back and hop off my stool, ready to go find a bathroom to collect myself quickly. I don’t want to let my head ruin a night out for me. My feet are solid beneath me even with the liquor running through my system.
I dodge people as I weave through the club toward the bathroom. My head spins at the mix of perfumes and colognes. The bathroom finally comes into sight when a gentle, yet forceful hand, stops me in my tracks.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice sounds over the music.
I step back so the man’s hand drops, defenses rising.
The man is a huge wall of muscle wrapped up in all black clothing and a buzz cut. “Someone is requesting you upstairs.”
I blink. “What?”
“Upstairs.”
“I don’t—” Before I can even finish my sentence, with hand in the middle of my back, he guides me toward a roped off staircase.
He waits expectantly for me to climb them and I try to look over his shoulder to see if I can catch Scar or Carter’s attention.
I’m sure I’m not getting abducted in the middle of a club, but I’m not so willing to just blindly trust this random man.
“I just need to let me friends know where I’m going,” I tell him, pulling my phone out of my bag. There’s no way either of them will be checking their texts out on the dance floor, but this buys me some time to think through the alcohol taking up space in my brain.
But my concern is wiped away as I see a text from Nikolai when I unlock my phone.
Nikolai: Stop stalling. Get your ass up here
My head whips toward the top of the stairs, but I can’t see anything or anyone up on that level from here.
Completely forgetting about the man behind me, I stomp up the stairs, and the moment I reach the top, another large worker waits to let me past another checkpoint.
He holds his hand out. “Phone.”
I rear back. “What?”
“No phones are allowed here. You’ll be able to collect it when you leave.”
I hesitate, not so willing to part with it.
“Just give him your phone, LJ.”
Nikolai appears like an apparition over the shoulder of the man blocking my entry, and just like that, I know my night is well and truly fucked.